Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Live With It

This is for that ophthalmologist who saw me last week.

I came into your clinic hoping to get a pair of glasses or contacts to replace the ones I broke. You led me into a small room and made me read stuff on the board. I could read everything clearly, but I kept reminding you that I had no grade and only had astigmatism. After you checked my eyes you told me, "You don't have a grade or astigmatism." You said it in a way that sounded like you were accusing me of lying. That was when I had to explain to you that I have optic neuritis. Some days I'll have a grade. Some days I'll have astigmatism. Some days I'll see well. Some days I won't see at all. And one day, people must find a cure to this.

While I was thinking about how doctors have not found a cure for this yet, you said, "There is nothing I can do for you but pity you." I nodded my head and forced a smile. But really, I don't need your pity or your sad looks. I don't really need a cure for this or someone to tell me that it will get better in the future. Am used to taking painkillers, throwing up and sleeping off the pain. Am used to not eating seafood, chocolates, chicken, peanuts and anything else that might make this sickness worse. Am used to the headaches and tunnel vision and the dizzyness. You are not obliged to do or feel anything for me.

What irritates me however is that you told me to just live with it. You said, "Just live with it then." Isn't that what I already am doing? I have stopped hoping that some type of medicine will be invented to regulate the pain. I have stopped wishing that some other person had this instead of me. I have stopped dreaming of a day when my head will stop throbbing. I have also stopped praying to God to heal me. Don't tell me to just live with it. I don't want to hear that from you. I don't want to hear anything from you.

See, I've heard this all before. You're not the first ophthalmologist or doctor or neurologist who has told me that there is nothing you can do for me. I know the lines. I know the spiels. I know you're just doing your job when you tell me these things. But I don't need to be reminded that I've got to live with this. As much as possible I just try to block it out of my mind so I can concentrate on living life.



Monday, November 4, 2013

First Semester Craziness


Was this really a Rizal class? Or was it something else? Every meeting, we would have about one hour to discuss current events. After discussing the news, that was the only time the professor would talk about Rizal and his life. The only thing I picked up from this class was that Rizal is our hero and he loved the Philippines so very much. I never really bothered to understand this class because it was frustrating to have to listen to the professor go on and on about whatever the hell he was talking about. I made it a point to show up for this class and at least not get on the nerves of the professor. I guess that strategy worked in my favor. I pity all the other students who have to take this class under that professor. 


I hate acting. I hate Acting. I hate the act. And I hate the subject. The real title of this subject is Acting and Directing. I was looking forward to it because I thought, "Hey! After this class I'll know how to boss people around more effectively and efficiently." But no. For one whole semester, we had to do acting activities, memorize Shakespeare lines and learn how to act on our own. On our own? Yes. I thought that the professor would teach us how to act and give us pointers. What he gave us were techniques, but i don't think those techniques taught me how to act. Sure, I knew my lines and cues, but I don't think I can act. Something has to be done for this subject to be relevant to Media Production students. In fairness to the professor, he told us on the first day of class that he did not know why we needed this subject. Really, it was a waste of time and saliva.


Holy mother of God. I think my brain is not wired to ever understand Management (and Marketing). I would get so bored. Most of the time, I would end up text messaging my friends and talking about something funny with Mica. We had exactly one quiz and weird exams. I would find any excuse to skip this class. I am off to Baguio. I am sick. I have a wedding to attend. I just did not feel like it. I guess one day, I'll look back and be like, "I wish I had listened to the professor in my Management class." I really don't know if I should blame the professor, the time of the subject, myself or other factors for being so lazy in this class. 

Corporate Communication 

I actually appreciated this class. At first it seemed that we weren't doing anything, but when the semester wore on, I finally got the hang of how the professor would teach the class. This class showed me that public relations is so important and it's pretty fun. Although I do not really want to go into public relations, it's nice to know that if I can't make it big elsewhere, I can get into this kind of work. Funny thing is that when the block had their finals, I was sick. So during the first week of my semestral break, I was slaving away making a campaign that the professor would grade. After submitting it, the professor tells me, "Actually, I already graded you even without your final paper. So this paper better be good." Crap. It's easier to work to get a grade than to work to prove you deserve the given grade. 

Cross Cultural Literature

This class was a class I wanted to love but ended up hating. I love reading and I love books. I was expecting that this class would be one of those classes which I would dream about and never want to miss. The day this class started, I was wishing the semester would end already. Instead of focusing on the themes of the different novels and how they are relevant to us, I had to memorize tons of names of almost all the characters and places in the given reading material. Like what the hell. I totally flunked all the quizzes and almost failed the exam. I think this class could have been better. Am glad this is over. 


About 80% of the tine, my brain was somewhere else during this class. Maybe it was because the class started at 2pm. Or maybe it was because I found the subject totally boring. Or because Mica was my seatmate and we would just laugh the whole time. What I liked about this class was its consistency. Vera was our professor and from the first day she set the rules. We had to shut up. We would finish one chapter of the book in two meetings. We would have quizzes on the third meeting. Consistent. Yes, I loved its consistency however there were days when it was rather dragging. We rarely had any activities (unless you consider PANA and selling stuff an activity). The only reason I got through this class was because of coffee and tons of laughter. My final grade? Let's just say that I am glad I passed this subject because I do not want to repeat this ever again.

Audio Arts

In this class, there were eight of us who were not part of the block. We called ourselves The Irregulars. This class stressed me out! Sure, it was just once a week on a Wednesday morning, but since almost everything was group work, it was hard to find time to meet the group. We would cut classes, stay after classes and find ways to meet as a group just to finish our projects. Although I cannot say that the people in The Irregulars became my friends, they were super fun to be with and we could talk about things I couldn't talk about with other people. The professor? I liked him because he was blunt. He would give us practical advise. He told us that there would only be a handful of us who would make it big. He said it would be hard to be a girl in the media. He said to stand up for ourselves. He's a good professor. He's real. I actually enjoyed this class a lot. Can we do this again?


I would like to forget that this class ever happened. Why? Let me explain. I took ballet for eight years. I did all sorts of other dance during grade-school and high-school. I had to stop because of my Optic Neuritis. So when I had to walk out in the middle of my final exam which was a dance, I totally broke down. Seriously? I took ballet for eight years! I did all sorts of dance for years! And then I couldn't dance! What the hell is wrong with me?! I would force myself to go to this class because after two hours of dance class, I would go home with a massive headache and throw up for hours. Instead of trying to present a doctor's certificate to get out of this class, I would show up week after week. This class just made me realize how sick I actually am and how I really cannot force myself to dance anymore. It saddens me that I cannot do what others can do with their bodies. Yet it also reminds me to take all my medicines and try my best to stay alive. 

Video Production

7:45am class. Who goes to a class that early? No one. In this class all we did was produce videos. The professor rarely gave lectures and when he did, we would watch videos of how to make videos. Am trying to think of what I actually learned from this one. After making about three videos for this class, I realized that it is hard to operate without a budget. It also is hard to produce anything when you don't believe in what you're doing. Maybe the coolest thing that happened in this class was that I got to watch several short films at CSB. Another cool thing was when the professor said that he used to be a missionary and bring the Jesus film to the provinces.

Audio Visual Presentation 2 

This is interesting. Our original professor gave us so many free cuts. When we actually had a class, she wouldn't teach us anything at all, but would require us to do really hard things. For mid terms, Char and I had to ask a friend to help us make a one minute video on some animation program. We were so desperate already. I was so desperate already. After the mid terms, we found out that someone else was taking over the class. I really don't care what happened to the original professor and I really hope that no school gets her to be a professor again. Yes, that's how much I dislike her. See, this class could have been fun! If someone taught this subject well, I would be able to edit better, animate, make websites and do that sort of shit you pay people to do for you. Oh well. Disappointing.

Overall this semester was such a hassle for me. What made it worse was that I had ten subjects and thirty (or twenty nine) units to contend with. Either my body is now so messed up or my school load was the culprit. I have no idea if it's because of my thyroid problems or my Optic Neuritis, but if I did not get eight hours of sleep at night, I felt that I had not gotten any sleep at all. There were days I would have to ask someone to walk to me school and back home because of my attacks. I would go home during my breaks to sleep and to pop some pills into my mouth. My attacks have gotten worse and have been happening more often. Am really glad that I have gotten through this semester. More semesters to go! Hopeful without the pain that this Optic Neuritis brings. Pretty happy that I did not fail any subject and that things are going as planned.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Thoughts On Sickness And Other Things

 My body feels sore. So sore that the only position I can stand is lying on my back in my bed while my eyes are staring at the ceiling. Urinating is a chore for it means getting up from bed and dragging myself to my toilet. I refuse to stand. I crawl. I crawl on all fours to the toilet. Finally, when I need to force myself to sit on the toilet seat, my body feels like a huge balloon that will explode when pricked. And then I imagine myself bursting. For no reason at all, my body becomes liquid and I become a pool of particles on my black floor. 

I wake up. On my bed. A tray of food is before me. A voice tells me that it's been there for the past two hours. The soup's getting cold. The cold water's getting warm. I am getting hotter and hotter. I force myself to eat food I cannot taste and drink liquids which hurt my throat. They want to turn the lights on in my room. I blatantly refuse. They turn it on. I whine. Like a brat. The lights go off. I go to sleep.

 I drift in and out of sleep. Veep is on. Modern Family is on. I listen. I sleep. My phone vibrates. People from college asking if I'm going to school. I reply and say I am sick. Their next few messages baffle me. They ask if I'm in school. They ask when I'll be back. When a person is sick, a person stays home. When a person is sick, they don't know when they'll be well. I stopped replying. Catastrophe. 

My closest friends entertain me. They try to make me better. But I'm here and they're so far away. To make up for distance they call and talk while I fall asleep on them. They send me funny videos that makes me smile. They chat with me and I send them emoticons. I fall asleep and wake up to their messages reminding me why I have to get well and not give in to this sickness. They say life is good. 

I'm not so sure about that.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Shakes Head

Conscience:  How's life so far?
Me: You call this life?
Conscience:  College. 
Me: Terrible.

It's so terrible that every time someone asks me if I am enjoying college I want to puke. I see my professors and try to give them the answers they want to hear. All I really want to tell them is that in a few years everything they taught me would have been obsolete already. The dean sees me at least once a week and tells me, "Anna, I am so proud of you." I smile and say thanks. What I really want to say is, "I can't wait to get out of here!" The guards look at me and wonder, "When are you graduating?" I want to tell them I am asking the same question. My parents ask me every week what's going on in college. I give them the same boring answers. Exams. Quizzes. Reports. Walk outs. Drama. My friends tell me that I don't belong in the college I find myself in. I cry on their shoulders and they tell me things will be alright. I want to get out. I am trapped in a prison of uniforms, no hair dye, specific black shoes, curfews, rules and everyhting else you can name that has made my mind go insane. I just need art.

Conscience: You need art. You need art?
Me: Paintings. Words. Colors. People. 
Conscience:  And you don't have that there?
Me: *shakes head*

Dapat kasi nag enroll ka sa non traditional college! And where in the name of Hades would that get me in this country? I am dying because the words here are words that have no more meaning and are just put together to form a sentence to get a grade. The words here are too structured that they have no life in them anymore. Colors are questioned or laughed at. They are viewed as rebellion or defying authority. No colors. People are too caught up with grades, love and little dumb things that clutter up their lives and then consume them.  And I try my best to blend in or fit in, but I can't and they know I won't. I realize that without words and colors and people who also need words and colors, I cannot function. Been stocking up on art books. Spending all my free time online looking for and at art. Reading words and trying to come up with some. Spending more and more time with people who can breathe some life into me.

Conscience: What have you been up to?
Me: Contemplating life.
Conscience:  You confused?
Me: Shut up. Percy Jackson is awesome!

The only thing that made me happy after a long time of feeling nothing was when my parents and I watched Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters last Sunday. I had to drag my parents to watch it with me because my friends are not into this Greek mythology thing. Yes, I have weird and sad friends. Anyway, I was so happy that I didn't even let it bother me that there were noisy children in the theater. Fine. So the movie wasn't as exciting as the book, but it was a lot better than the first Percy Jackson movie. Thank heavens! I wanna watch it again, but I don't wanna watch it alone. So I just might bribe some people to watch it with me. I am that desperate.

Conscience: Uhm. .
Me: And to make myself happier I decided to go minimalist.
Conscience: Will you shut up about it?
Me: No. Talking about it helps me convince myself that it's the right thing to do.

 Basically, I haven't started cleaning out my closet and giving or throwing most of my things away. I don't really live where all my things are. So am planning to get rid of tons of stuff this weekend. I've been checking out tons of blogs to see if I'm on the right path. Seems that I am. I told some of my friends what am up to and they all said that if I was throwing away my books, they want them. Parents don't really care. Me? Am so excited. Maybe by going minimalist I'll forget how terrible college is right now.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

To A Mother

 To a mother.

To a mother who was never there to see me grow up. A mother who did not get to see me take my first steps or hear my first words. A mother who did not have to drag me out of bed to get me to school every single day. A mother who did not have to deal with my endless cries for more ice cream and candy. A mother who did have to shed any tears when I messed up or fucked up my life again and again. A mother who at the time I was conceived may or may not have been a slut, a prostitute, the other woman, a drunkard, a stoned teenager or just one of those people who got knocked up. A mother who if I meet now may not understand or be fluent in the language I speak. This is for a mother I do not know. This is for a mother I hope loved me. This is for a mother I may not love at all.

It may seem cruel and harsh for me to say that I may not love you. But think about it, love can only be given and received if the person giving it and receiving it is around somehow. How can I love someone who deliberately chose never to see me again? I'd like to believe however that you gave me away because you loved me. I would like to think that you gave me up so that I could have a better future. Yet, it could also be the other way around. You could have given me away because you selfishly loved yourself. You could have given me up because you perceived me as a hindrance to your own great future. I would be a fool not to take a human's selfish nature into consideration when contemplating these things.

For a long time, I could not grasp the concept of adoption in which those who want a child can get a child from those who do not wish to keep a child. It delighted me to know that I was chosen by people who did not have to show affection towards me. At the same time, it was a huge pain in the ass to know that you, a mother who is related to me by blood, could not find it in yourself to keep me. Sugarcoat it all you want. Truth is, I was abandoned and given up to a couple of strangers I now call my family. Although it took my family only five days after my birth to bring me home and welcome me into their privileged world, it does not change the fact that I was alone for a few unfortunate days.

If you were to magically appear out of nowhere or come back from the dead to apologize to me for giving me up, I'll let you know now that you have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone is fully aware of what they do before and while they are doing it. And apologizing is just a crappy excuse and a backup plan to make the one you have offended feel better. Scratch that. An apology makes the offender feel better. An apology won't bring back wasted time. A sorry will not change my life. An expression of regret will not make you or me a better person. Nevertheless, a sorry will make you feel good. So say it if you have to. But I won't forgive you. There is nothing to forgive. I feel nothing.I have grown numb to whatever emotion I felt or still subconsciously feel about my situation.

I question my choice to even call you a mother, but the word is used for any woman who has given birth to a child. And that is all you are. You are just a woman who gave birth to me. You acted like a conduit. You were a channel. A channel of a fucking blessing of a baby girl - me. You were a mother who brought me into this world to give me to my mother. You may never know how much my mother wanted me or how many gallons of tears my mother cried when I dyed my hair blue. But then, I may never know how hard a time I must have put you through while I was in you for nine months. I guess there are things you and I will never know but will always want to know about each other.

So on this very happy Mother's Day, let me tell you that this letter is not to thank you or to condemn you for what you did. This is not to make you feel guilty or to make you feel at peace with your decision. This is also not a hate letter or a love letter to you. This is me realizing that you are a mother. And for those nine months I was in you and you surrounded me, you were my mother. Maybe that's enough for me to respect and honor you because you were a mother. You were my mother. I knew your voice. I heard your cries. I sensed your thoughts. I knew you. And you knew me.

Saturday, May 11, 2013


I honestly don't know how to start this because I don't know how this started. 

There is no date to celebrate. There is no specific time or moment when the feelings started to creep in. There is nothing to look back to that will ever prove that any of this even happened. And maybe that's the problem with this whole I-don't-know-what-to-call-it-relationship. It was built on nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it is nothing. Yet if this was all nothing, why does it suck? Why does it - excuse my fucked up term - hurt? Why do I feel that this is just another break up altogether?

Perhaps there was something after all. It wasn't love. I'm sure of that. It was a mutual respect and admiration of each other that led us to this nothingness. Trust was involved too which was broken month after month after month. Lies existed to cover up a multitude of hurt that came about from lies also. Happiness was sporadic, but we both lived for those precious moments. Fighting was our language through which we communicated with a passion. There were no rules. Anything was possible! 

And that "anything" happened. You got drunk. I got drunk. You flirted with other girls. I got drunk because you flirted with other girls. I smoked. You got mad. I said you had no right to be because you didn't own me. You shut up because you knew I was correct. I cursed you. You cursed me. My curses had no effect on you. Your curses to me scarred me for life. You stayed. I left. You didn't call me back. I kept on hoping you would. I said sorry. A lot. You always just accepted it. My pride got in the way. Your pride blocked the way. We refused to give way. I hoped. I hoped too much. You made me believe that I had something to hope for.
Finally, I came to my senses and threw nothing down the drain because I had nothing to throw away to begin with. There was no us to tear apart. There was no date to forget every month. There were no text messages to delete or chats to regret. A relationship status change was not necessary which meant that no questions were asked. No questions will ever be asked. There are no pictures of us up on the Internet that have to be taken down. There was nothing. There is nothing.

So what was that all about? If nothing took place and there was no relationship, what should I be feeling right now? If this was the usual break up scenario, you'd see me walking around like a zombie for days and I'd be listening to The Script. Yet this is not the usual, normal break up. This is not a break up. I did not lose anything, but I feel that I left something behind. Mixed and messed up feelings that should not even be felt are strangling my soul. Fuck. I need to wake up from this bad dream.

As I try my best to piece together some answer that will make myself believe that this was worth it, a friend suddenly opens up to me to share her own story that began with nothing and ends with nothing also. And she asks me for advice while I sit here not knowing what to say or how to deal with her heartache. Her questions remind me of my own situation. My answers to her questions are answers that I need to get into my brain and be convinced by. I don't have the guts to tell her that I can't even follow my own advice. I abruptly stopped replying to her because the emotions that came along with the conversation were too much to handle. I wish her the best though. And i give myself applause for being such a good liar.

I began and will end now with nothing.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Divorce Just Happens

A friend brought a book with pages full of questions with her to our church's youth overnight. We all took turns reading a question out loud and answering them. If you could have your own club, what would you name it and what music would you play? Would you help a friend cheat for an exam? If you were in a party and saw someone you wanted to ask out, how would you get the person's attention? The questions got more and more ridiculous until the last question was asked. What would you say to anyone who was going through a divorce?

The person who had to answer the  question was one of our youth group leaders. Of course, her answer was a mile long and several feet deep, yet it prompted several members of the group to react, to share and to give their own take on divorce. Some had parents who were going through it. Another was a child who had to deal with a father who was unfaithful. And one just wanted to know when to stop praying for her mother and father to reconcile. They said that as the child, you never stop praying and you never stop hoping for that reconciliation. And their stories about wanting their parents to get back together went on and on and on. Someone made a comment that the topic was so close to home. Well, this topic is what makes my home. If divorce (or annulment) destroyed the families of my friends, divorce (or annulment) gave me a mother and a father plus two ancient half brothers. 

Am not sure when I realized that my ancient older brothers were my mom's children from her first marriage. Maybe I found out when I had to talk to my ancient older brothers' father on the phone. Or maybe I found out when I realized I would only see my second ancient older brother only during big family reunions. Actually, am pretty sure my first ancient older brother who lived with us for a few years shared some family gossip with me. All I know is that my ancient older brothers and I belonged to the same mom, but we had different dads.
And I sat there thinking about my own messed up family and how we've all learned to deal with the divorce (or annulment) in our own crazy way. Some of us have learned to deal with it better than the others. But have dealt with it and continue to deal with it. My dad has a way of detaching himself from everything that has to do with my mom's divorce. When she talks about it, he just shuts up. Maybe he thinks that just because the law says the marriage never happened, he can pretend it never took place. My mom still has open wounds from that divorce (annulment) that will never fully heal. I know she cries about it and still feels its heavy weight. The first ancient older brother has pain we all know about but will never comprehend entirely. The second ancient older brother seems to have let his pain fuel his desire to have a beautiful family. And I may not feel all their pain, but their pain has affected my views on life and marriage.

I thought about how one ancient brother wished for mom and their father to reconcile and how the other ancient brother did not. Thought about all those times mom wished the second ancient older brother also lived with her when he was growing up. Recalled those moments when one ancient older brother would call my dad Papito and the other one called him Uncle. Looked back on those times my mom begged God to please change one ancient older brother's mind about marriage and children. Recalled all those times I would have to explain why our last names did not match. Thought about how my dad loves his wife's children even if they are not his own. Tried to feel the regret my mom is undergoing for having a divorce (annulment) and also her happiness that she is free from that marriage. 

Their talk went on and on and on as I tried to make myself disappear in the mess of blanketss and a pillow. Because what can someone say to a person who is going through a divorce? What can someone say to a child whose parents are divorcing? What can someone say to a child who has a parent who has gone through a divorce and has re-married? What can someone say? What can someone really say? Nothing. You can talk and talk and talk, but that may mean nothing because each situation is different and because there will never be a right or a wrong divorce (annulment). You can pray and pray that reconciliation takes place, but sometimes God does not listen to prayers like those. You can question and beg, but sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes divorce (annulment) just happens. Sometimes divorce (annulment) it is meant to be.

So I came back from that overnight depressed as ever.



Tuesday, April 2, 2013

More Months Down The Drain

So done with another year of college.

While everyone else is getting their grades, I am stuck at home doing crazy things. The second semester ended last March 22, 2013 and I have been on vacation mode since then. What do I do when it's vacation? I sleep, eat, read, watch, drive my parents insane, scare the neighbors and play with animals. But before I get so engrossed in doing crazy things, I gotta review the semester that just ended.

Theology Two - Monday and Friday 7:45AM-9:10AM

Basically this whole class was about celebrating life in a community of faith. Although this class was seriously boring and I would drink coffee just to wake myself up, I actually appreciated this class a whole lot. Imagine, I was forced to start and end my school week with prayer and praise. Of course, there were times I would annoy the professor really bad and she would roll her eyes at me. I didn't bring my Bible to class one time and was too lazy to borrow from the library. The professor noticed and I was like, 'Reading the Bible won't get me to Heaven. ' I guess this was one of those classes I just had to attend so that I wouldn't have to repeat it. Ever.

Take Away: Almost every meeting the professor would say, 'You should live your life to the fullest!' Fullest my @*$.

Humanities Two - Tuesday 10:40AM-1:50PM

What kind of schedule is that? I'd be in the classroom on time and the class would start at around 11:15AM. If the professor didn't feel like it, she'd end the class at like 12:30noon. We were always eating during this class. Am not really sure what the professor wanted us to learn in this class. The lessons were messed up and rather queer, but we could always relate to them somehow. I especially enjoyed those times the professor would just rant about her ex boyfriend and we were like, 'We'll listen to anything as long as it's not the lesson!' I enjoyed the final project/final exam for this class! My group had to give a presentation about clothes and I just put together pictures from my Flickr days. LOL.

Take Away: 'Use your knowledge about the person to make a judgement about the situation,' the professor would always say. 

Classics- Tuesday and Thursday 2:00PM-3:20PM

Ohmyfreakinggawd. I honestly thought that I was done with this professor who also taught Oral Communication to our block during the first semester. I don't exactly hate the professor, but I don't love her. I just don't get the professor at all. This class had too many surprise quizzes I failed, questions that had no answers, stories I could not relate to, grades I could not figure out and unnecessary stress I had to deal with. I remember not knowing what to review for the midterm exam. All I did was scan my scarce notes and take the exam. When the results came out, I was like, 'Thank God for stock knowledge and for Ada who is so crazy about mythology.' This could have been an interesting class if. . . Never mind. Looking back though, this class brought our block together. 

Take Away: I want to go to Greece

Philosophy/Critical Thinking - Wednesday 9:20AM-12noon

My brain would go dead during this class! During the first half of the semester, I was guessing everything in this class. I'd guess the answers for every quiz, I'd guess the answers for the reflection papers and I guessed for the midterm exam. I only started getting things when we started the debates! I loved it. I guess I was lucky 'cause I was always in a group with people who knew how to work debates. I liked the professor because I think he's smart. It's just that most of the time he was talking to himself and explaining the lesson to himself. He would start his sentences with 'In a nutshell' and we'd make fun of that. I'd make fun of that. Mica, Mina and I would laugh really bad in class 'cause the professor would make stupid sounds which we would later on copy. Char was not my classmate in this class, but she also had this professor for another class. We would swap stories about him and we agreed that he made our brains dizzy. To get me through this class, Char, Mica and Mina would make me laugh!

Take Away: All is well. 

NSTP One - Wednesday 2:00PM-4:50PM

Would someone please explain why I needed to take this class? How come this class is not graded? How come it's just pass or fail? I had to drag myself to this class every freaking week. Half of the time I did not understand the professor who taught the class in some form of Filipino. Did not help that all my classmates in this class were rowdy first year students. Good thing I had some friends who were in this class who were also irregular students like me. We got through the whole semester because of food, swapping stories and hating the class. The best thing that happened in this class was that we got to go to GK Enchanted Farm. The most annoying thing is that there still is an NSTP Two. Freaks.

Take Away:  None. 

Introduction to Broadcasting- Friday 9:30AM-12noon

I wanted to skip this class altogether! I have no idea if we were wasting the professor's time or she was wasting our time. I dunno if her method of teaching was wrong or if we just expected something totally different. I dunno if she taught us anything or we just didn't listen close enough. I dunno if her De La Salle University standards are higher or if Assumption standards are lower. I have no idea. It was pretty awkward when she asked the class if there was anything wrong and how come we were failing. As if we would stand up and tell her what the problem was. In the end, we just shut up and did whatever we could to pass. When I found out that she was serious with her weekly reflection papers on TV shows, I made tons of them and passed them all. The happiest we were during this subject was when we got to visit GMA 7. And then some of my groupmates for our final project got to interview DJ Jimmy Muna. 

Take Away:  Being in media will never be easy, but it will be worth it.

Scriptwriting - Friday 2:00PM-4:50PM

I LOVED THIS CLASS! <3  Before the professor made us write our own scripts, she made us watch tons of movies. Because I love movies, I would download all the movies she would make us watch and I'd use those movies as an excuse to waste away three hours a day. I'll never forget this class because I got to watch a really good movie, We Have To Talk About Kevin. There was this movie about Rizal which was brilliant, but I got bored. And so many other movies which made me go, 'Crap. I wish I wrote that script.' I got a partner when it came to making our own script. And we literally did not sleep just so that we could finish the script. There were times I would really yell because things were so off and lines weren't coming out of our heads. Coffee, energy drinks and alcohol helped us along the way. 

Take Away: "The producer is anyone who knows a writer."

Economics - Saturday 10:40AM-1:50PM

Curses! Saturday classes suck. Why do I need economics when my course is Media Production? Stupid. I bought the book for this class just so that I would not have to listen to the professor talk. Little did I know that I would not also be able to understand the stupid book which was full of numbers and graphs. Every Saturday, I would think of new ways to entertain myself during this class. At first, I would just count the times the professor would use his fuck finger to point at the board. After some time, I got tired of doing that. So I would borrow the phones of my friends and play all sorts of weird games. When that didn't work, I composed a song. And then towards the end of the semester I copied my classmate, Michel, and practiced writing with my left hand. Yes, that was how boring this class was. I was especially disappointed after I learned that the professor got all of his Powerpoint Presentations online. Like what?! O.o

Take Away: Anything with numbers bores me to death.  

At the End of the Day: I wanna say that I had such a useless semester and that most of my classes were crap, but that wouldn't be true. I enjoyed this semester because my friends made it awesome. =)